Till There Was You
by sinnerforhire
Summary: New chapters up! Pete tries out for the school musical and becomes Lana's leading man.
1. Auditions

Title: Till There Was You

Author: AmandaLynn125 (amandalynn99@earthlink.net)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Pete/Lana (I think this may be the first!)

Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville_ or any of it characters, and I don't own Meredith Willson's _The Music Man_ or any of the lyrics to the songs contained within. All are used without permission.

Summary: Pete goes out for the school musical and ends up as Lana Lang's leading man.

"Going out for the _musical_? I didn't think you were into that stuff," said Clark.

"It's just for the English extra credit," Pete replied. "I bombed that essay on _Animal Farm_."

"Yeah, you definitely don't seem like the black beret thespian type," Chloe remarked sarcastically. "And don't you have to be able to carry a tune to be in a musical?"

"Hey, who says I can't carry a tune? Just because I'm not president of the Glee Club doesn't mean I can't sing," Pete shot back defensively. "I happen to have a great voice. Good enough for the chorus, anyway."

"Well, good luck with that," said Chloe doubtfully. "Tell you what: if you make the musical, I'll go out for cheerleading."

"Whoa, Chloe, don't get ahead of yourself here," said Clark. "Pete probably _can_ make the chorus, and you really don't want to be held to that promise come fall."

"Yeah, Chloe, have some faith!" Pete exclaimed. "Besides, I've always heard that everyone makes the chorus no matter what. It's like a Drama Club rule."

"Okay, okay, point taken. Have fun with your little thespians," Chloe snarked, heading off to the Torch office. 

"Hey, I think it's cool," said Clark. "Good luck."

"Thanks, man," said Pete, and walked off to the auditorium for auditions.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Pete walked down the auditorium's long aisle to sign up with the drama teacher, Mr. Herrada. "Ross, what a surprise! This is great--if you have half the talent Kathy did, you might just end up being our star."

Pete's eyebrows rose. "Really?" _Maybe I'll get more extra points if I'm the lead_, he wondered, grinning.

"Pete!" he turned to see Lana holding a stack of photocopied script excerpts. "I didn't know you were into acting."

"Actually, I'm just here to pick up some extra credit for English," he answered conspiratorially in a low voice, his eyes darting around the room. "Don't tell anyone."

Lana smiled. "Your secret's safe with me," she replied. She handed him the packet of lines and lyrics. "Mrs. Hawthorn's doing the singing tryouts in the choral room, and Mr. Herrada's listening to line readings here. Which do you want to do first?"

He flipped through the packet. They had to sing "76 Trombones," which wasn't too bad. He decided to go get that over with first. "I'll go sing."

"Okay, then go on over to the choral room, and then I'll see you back here when you're done," Lana replied sweetly. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," he said. "Are you trying out too?"

"Of course!" she giggled. "Why else would I be here?"

_Interesting,_ he thought. He looked through the lines they had been assigned. One was from the crowd scene just before "Ya Got Trouble," and the other was the bridge scene between Harold and Marian. Obviously that was designed to test the chemistry between the characters. He looked around the room. There were some beautiful girls trying out for the musical, and Pete was willing to have chemistry with any one of them. He smiled and headed to the choral room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mr. Ross, what a pleasure! I always thought you boys should have spent less time on the football field and more time on the stage. You're all so talented! I've been listening to that golden voice of yours in the church choir since you were six years old, wondering when you were going to haul that little tush of yours in here and sing for me," old Mrs. Hawthorn gushed. Mrs. Hawthorn was the director of every singing group in town--the church choir, the elementary and junior high choruses, and the high school Glee Club. 

Pete smiled at her and opened up the "76 Trombones" lyrics. He took a few deep breaths as Mrs. Hawthorn played the intro. 

_Seventy-six trombones led the big parade_

_With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand._

_They were followed by rows and rows of the finest virtuosos,_

_the cream of ev'ry famous band. _

_Seventy six trombones caught the morning sun, _

_With a hundred and ten cornets right behind. _

_There were more than a thousand reeds springing up like weeds, _

_There were horns of every shape and kind. _

_There were copper bottom tympani in horse platoons, _

_Thundering, thundering, all along the way. _

_Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons, _

_Each bassoon having his big fat say. _

_There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery, _

_Thundering, thundering, louder than before._

_Clarinets of every size and trumpeters who'd improvise _

_A full octave higher than the score. _

His strong, smooth tenor echoed off the choral room's walls, giving it a reverberant, ethereal quality. He figured he was a shoo-in for a meaty role, maybe Marcellus or one of the barbershop quartet members. He smiled as he left the room, hoping a good role would score him a good date--_and_ some extra credit.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lana was waiting for him when he returned. "How did you do?" she asked politely.

"Pretty good," he answered suavely. "I've been singing since I was six, so it was no big deal."

"Really? I never knew that!" exclaimed Lana. "Are you in a group or something?"

"Church choir," he replied. "It's a big thing in my family."

"That's great," Lana remarked. "You'll probably get a good part, then."

"Maybe," he answered. "How about you? What are you hoping for?"

Lana smiled shyly. "I was hoping to be Marian," she told him. "I've always dreamed of being the star of the musical. My mother used to perform in the musicals, and she loved it. I just hope I can live up to her."

He smiled. "I'm sure you'll do great," he told her confidently. "You'd make a terrific Marian."

"Thanks," she murmured self-deprecatingly. "But I doubt I'll get it. Amy Hoffman gets the leads in all the plays."

"Who knows? Maybe she can't sing," Pete offered. 

Lana smiled. "I wish." 

"Good luck," said Pete sincerely. 

Lana looked deep into his eyes. "Thank you," she replied, her voice surprised and pleased. She turned and headed to the choral room and Pete took his place onstage with 5 other male students. 

After the group was finished Pete went down and sat in the front row, waiting for the girls to come back from the choral room. Only a few guys were being selected to reread, and Mr. Herrada announced that there would also be a second singing audition with a "mystery song" that had yet to be announced. He did say, however, that the song would be the same for both the boys and the girls. Obviously, then, it was one of the large chorus numbers. After that, he had threatened to hold dance auditions, but that suggestion was greeted by bemused laughter. The choreography displayed in the musicals had been a long-running joke; it was basically the same five or six steps arranged in different order throughout the entire show. 

"And now for what you've all been waiting for: who gets to stay here in this drab, stifling auditorium and re-audition and who gets to go home and relax." Everyone laughed. Mr. Herrada was a trip.

"For the men: Jason Miller, David Jansen, Andy Mattingly, Craig Littleton, Brian Cavanaugh, Rich Gianetta, and Pete Ross. For the lovely ladies: Amy Hoffman, Lauren Price, Jenna Hutchinson, Molly Christopher, Carly Geller, Shawna Zimmerman, and Lana Lang." 

Pete smiled. He was glad Lana had made the final cut. The truth was, he wouldn't mind being Harold to her Marian. In fact, he thought it would be kind of cool. But his thoughts were drowned out by the sounds of all the disappointed kids gathering their stuff and leaving. 

The first pair to read the bridge scene was Jason and Jenna. Pete pulled out his Algebra book and started on the homework, figuring he would be there for a while. He was on the fifth problem when he heard Mr. Herrada calling, "Earth to Pete! Lana and I need you on the bridge!"

He was embarrassed but thought he played it off well as he strode confidently onto the stage. He smiled encouragingly at Lana and began the scene. He had to admit, she was a better actress than he had expected. She fit the role of Marian perfectly--prim and proper yet intelligent and articulate. And Pete, with his suaveness and flirtatious personality would be perfect as con man Harold Hill. _Maybe this will really work out!_ he thought excitedly. He knew Lana must have been excited as well. Surely she had to know how well she was doing.

But then, Amy Hoffman took the stage with Craig. Amy was good, but she had quite a presence--much more suited toward Eulalie or Mrs. Paroo. And Craig's booming voice was perfect for Mayor Shinn. Amy and Craig were the last pairing before the singing re-auditions started.

Mrs. Hawthorn bustled over from the choral room and sat down at the piano. "The ladies will be trying their hands at 'My White Knight'," she announced, and Mr. Herrada handed each of them the sheet music. "And then all you fine young men will be trying out some of the barbershop quartet harmonies. Girls, you're up first."

Amy stepped confidently up to the piano. Mrs. Hawthorn played the intro, and Amy began belting it out. She had a decent voice, but she seemed more interested in showing off than really exploring the emotional nuances of the song. 

The rest of the girls took their turns, and Lana nervously stood up last. As she passed him, Pete squeezed her shoulder. "You can do it," he whispered. She smiled, visibly relaxing. She opened her music and began to sing. She had a sweet voice, not powerful like Amy's, that was much more suited to the wistful lyrics she was singing.

_My white knight, not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings; _

_Just someone to love me, _

_who is not ashamed of a few nice things. _

_My white knight who knew what my heart would say if it only knew how. _

_Please, dear Venus, show me now. _

_All I want is a plain man_

_All I want is a modest man_

_A quiet man, a gentle man_

_A straightforward and honest man _

_To sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa. _

_And I would like him to be more interested in me than he is in himself. _

_And more interested in us... than in me. _

_And if occasion'ly he'd ponder what made _

_Shakespeare and Beethoven great, _

_Him I could love 'til I die. Him I could love 'til I die. _

_My white knight, not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings. _

_Just someone to love me, who is not ashamed of a few nice things. _

_My white knight, let me walk with him where others ride by; _

_Walk and love him 'til I die, 'til I die._

The whole auditorium applauded when she was done. Lana startled, as if she had forgotten they were there. She blushed and looked down at the floor bashfully. She walked by, and Pete whispered, "You were incredible!"

She stopped and looked at him, beaming. "Thanks, Pete," she replied modestly. "Good luck." She picked up her backpack and headed out of the auditorium.

Pete couldn't get that smile out of his head for the rest of the day.


	2. The List

Chloe, Clark, and Pete had just walked into school when they heard a commotion. "The list is up!" Carly Geller exclaimed as she rushed past Pete. "Come on!"

"Man, I haven't seen everybody this excited since Homecoming," Chloe observed dryly. "You'd think it was the last day of school, the way everyone's running around."

"Come on, Chloe, let's go see how Pete did," Clark said. "See if you're going to start pom-pomming it anytime soon." He grinned. 

"Hey, that bet's off, remember?" replied Chloe. "You know, I have a feeling you two are hiding something from me."

"Us? Never!" Pete scoffed, grinning. 

There was a huge crowd at the auditorium door, but it parted immediately upon seeing Pete. "Hey, great job, man," Jason Miller said, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Yeah, congratulations," someone else said. Pete walked up to the door. There, at the top of list, was his name. _Harold Hill -- Pete Ross_.

"You got the lead?" asked Chloe incredulously. "Well well well, looks like a star is born."

Another minor commotion started up behind them, and Pete turned to see Lana approaching the crowd. He turned back to the list.

Marian Paroo -- Lana Lang 

Pete smiled. Lana had gotten her wish. He turned back and caught Lana's eye. "Is it good news?" she called to him.

"Better than good. See for yourself," he told her. He gently put his arm around her waist and guided her up to the door.

"Oh my God! Pete, I got it!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around him. 

"Great job, Lana. I knew you could do it," he replied. 

She turned to face Clark and Chloe. "I got the lead! I'm Marian the Librarian!" she squealed. 

Clark beamed. "Congratulations! That's great!" He stepped forward and gave Lana a quick hug. Lana was positively ecstatic. It looked like it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and down. Her face resembled a child's on Christmas morning. She moved through the crowd, gathering compliments from the crowd. 

"This is great!" Chloe exclaimed. "With my best friend in the lead, I'll be able to get _all_ the behind-the-scenes dirt from the first line readings up to the closing night! Pete, you are my new informant. I want to know _everything_ that goes on backstage--the jealousy, the back-stabbing, the cat-fighting, everything!"

"What makes you think there's going to _be_ back-stabbing and cat-fighting?" asked Clark. "It's just a school play."

"Think about it--Lana beat Amy Hoffman out for the lead role. Pete comes out of nowhere to not only take the best role in the show, but also becomes Lana's leading man. They don't call it _Drama_ Club for nothing."

"Chloe, it's just a play. It's acting; it's not personal."

"Didn't you hear about what happened between Amy Hoffman and the stage crew last year? They all collected money and bribed Kevin Henderson to deep-tongue her on the closing night of the show, and when she found out, she spiked their drinks at their after-show party with Tabasco sauce. She's vicious! And she's gonna be even _more_ pissed off this time."

Clark's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Totally," Chloe replied. "This is going to be the story of the year!"

"So I take it you've already assigned the whole series of articles to yourself?" said Clark, slightly miffed.

"Of course! Editor's prerogative," she answered cheekily. "I didn't know you would be interested."

"Neither did I, until you told me how fascinatingly soap opera-ish this play's going to be."

"Why don't you guys join stage crew?" suggested Pete. "Those guys see all, hear all, know all, and _tell_ all."

Clark grinned. "Sounds good. Where do we sign up?"

"Stop by rehearsal this afternoon and talk to Matt Morley. He's the crew chief." He turned to Chloe. "Although, there aren't usually any girls on crew. You might get stuck doing costumes and makeup."

"The hell I will!" Chloe retorted, her eyes flashing. 

"Whoa, hold on, Chloe. That might be a good assignment. You'd get to keep close tabs on Amy Hoffman."

She backed off a bit. "That's not bad," she mused. "Clark, how about you and I work together? You work with the crew and soak up the onstage vibes, and I'll be backstage where the _real_ action is."

"Works for me," said Clark. The three of them backed out of the crowd and headed off to class.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"What's your name?"

"Clark Kent."

"I've got an opening for a spotlight. Sound good?"

"I'd kind of rather be backstage. I live on a farm, I definitely have the strength to move set pieces."

Matt looked him up and down. "Never woulda thought," he mumbled. "Okay, I'll put you on stage. We start construction in two weeks."

"Okay," Clark agreed. "Thanks."

Meanwhile, Chloe was over talking to the costume committee chair, Melissa Ryan. "I never pictured you as the makeup and clothing type," she said, surprised.

"Actually, I'm doing an article on the show for the Torch and thought that this would be a good way to get some inside info," Chloe confessed.

Melissa laughed. "At least you're honest. I'll put you on the girls' makeup crew. You'll be working with Claire O'Brien. You'll be mostly doing makeup for the leads--Marian, Mrs. Paroo, Eulalie, Amaryllis, and the ladies. The townspeople and the boys' band have their own little crew."

"Perfect," said Chloe. "Thanks, Melissa. You're the best."

"I will expect you to do your best job, though. You're not just here to spy on everybody."

"Understood, totally. No problem."

"Well then, welcome aboard." Melissa handed her a schedule. "We'll be starting costume design in two weeks--everybody pitches in. A lot of it is just going around to Goodwill and the Salvation Army and finding old clothes, or modifying costumes from past shows. Do you sew?"

"Not since seventh grade home ec."

"Well, we'll have you work on the scavenger hunt, then. Or maybe the hats. Sound okay?"

"Fine," answered Chloe. "I'll do anything you want."

"Anything for a story, you mean," Melissa grinned. "Chloe, we all know you. I just need to make sure you'll be as dedicated to whatever we assign you as you are to your story."

"I promise, Melissa. I really appreciate this."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry, Lana, but you know I have to be at the store right after school. Get a ride with one of your drama geek friends."

"Whitney!"

"I'm sorry, Lana, but we barely get to spend any time together as it is, and now you've gone ahead and gotten involved in this huge production! I'll _never_ get to see you now, and I thought our relationship was important to you."

"Whitney, I don't ask you to blow off working at the store to spend time with me, so I don't see where you get off telling me to blow off the musical to be with you! You know how important this _is_ to me. Being the lead in the musical was my dream. I never thought it would come true, but it did, and I'm not giving it up for you or anyone else."

"Fine, if that's the way it's gonna be, maybe we don't mean as much to each other as we thought we did."

"Whitney, you know I love you! I've been there for you whenever you needed me, and I still want to be. I thought you would be happy that my dream came true, but I guess I was wrong. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Of _course _I do, Lana! It's just, I want us to be happy _together_, and if you're here all the time and I'm at the store, we'll never get that chance!"

"What do you want me to do, Whitney?"  
"I don't know, Lana! I don't know."

Lana shook her head. "Neither do I." She turned and walked away. 


	3. The Plot Thickens

"Lana, what's wrong?" Pete asked, concerned.

"Nothing, really," she replied, looking down at the floor. "Whitney and I just had a little fight, that's all."

"Sorry," Pete replied. He sat down on the edge of the stage with his script and patted the wooden floor beside him. "Mr. Herrada's always fashionably late, so we might as well just chill till he gets here."

Lana sat down, graceful as always. She sighed. "I know Whitney's been under a lot of pressure lately, I just wish he wouldn't try to take it out on me."

"It's not your fault, so don't sweat it," Pete advised her. "Maybe you guys should just let things ride for a while."

"Maybe," she mused. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should just go our separate ways for a while. After all, neither of us really have any free time anymore."

"Free time? What's that?" joked Craig, coming up behind them. "There's no such thing as free time when you're in Drama Club."

Pete and Lana laughed. "Yeah, man, that's about right," said Pete, shaking his head. "But hey, the play's the thing, right?"

"Of course," replied Lana. She heard a noise at the back of the auditorium, and looked up to see Mr. Herrada rushing in. 

He looked at the stage. "Where _is_ everybody? We need to be ready to go when rehearsal starts, people! You had plenty of time to get here!"

Pete and Lana stood up. The rest of the main cast drifted out from the wings to join them. "Now remember, this is the last day of line readings. Starting next week we're going to be _acting_, people. Acting! That means first act lines memorized for Monday and second and third by Wednesday. Not song lyrics, mind you, just lines. Now I've said enough, let's get started with reading!" He looked around. "Someone kindly tell Miss Hoffman that her presence is requested onstage," he asked sarcastically. 

Amy breezed in from the choral room as if nothing were wrong. "Well well, Miss Hoffman. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Sorry, I just had something to take care of backstage," she said flippantly. "Besides, you barely need me for this act." Her eyes narrowed.

"Miss Hoffman, as long as you are a member of _my_ cast you will follow _my_ rules. And my first rule is that you show up on time ready to work at each rehearsal. I don't care if you're the lead or you're in the back row of the chorus. We all follow the same rules. Understand?"

Amy nodded, glaring at Lana. Lana looked away timidly. "Man, Amy really has it in for me, doesn't she?" she whispered to Pete.

"Sure looks like it," he replied. Mr. Herrada cleared his throat, and they knew it was time to get down to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As they were getting ready to leave, Amy accidentally bumped into Lana in the aisle. "Oh, sorry," she muttered insincerely.

"This is only the first week," remarked Lana. "How am I going to survive three more months of this?"

"Look, I'm sure she'll calm down eventually," Pete assured her. "She can't stay mad forever. You got the part that was right for you, and she got the part that was right for her. She'll either deal with it or she'll quit."

"I don't want her to quit because of me," Lana said dejectedly. "If it means that much to her--"

Pete cut her off. "It means that much to _you_," he told her. "You worked hard for this. This is your dream come true. Don't give it up for one jealous egomaniac."

Lana smiled. "You're right," she said. "You're right! She's had her time in the spotlight. She can handle playing one supporting role."

"Exactly," Pete replied, grinning. "You go, girl."

She laughed. "Pete, you're so funny."

"Good funny or weird funny?"

"Good funny!" she replied indignantly. "You think I would make fun of you?"

"I don't know, Lana, you seem to be up for trying new things lately."

"Pete, I think you're a great guy! A bit of a player, but a pretty great guy anyway."

He shook his head, but he was grinning slyly. "That's just my rep," he replied. "I do all right with the ladies, I guess."

She giggled. "And modest, as well," she teased.

"That's part of my charm."

She shook her head. "I've got to get going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Lana. Have a good one."

She smiled sweetly. "I will."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"That little bitch is _not_ going to show me up!" Amy growled, pounding her fist on the dashboard.

"Amy, it's a _play_. Get over it!"

"This is not just any play. This is my last play before NYU! What's it going to look like to them to see seven starring roles and one _supporting_ one?"

"Get. A. Grip. It's not the end of the world."

"Matt, you don't get it!"

"No, I guess not. Tell me how stupid I am again, why don't you?"

"Come on, I didn't mean it that way!"

"You think I don't get it? I'm second-string quarterback, Amy! Whitney's the one who gets the glory, the scouts, and the scholarships. You think I don't know what it's like to play second fiddle to one of the most popular people in school? I wrote the book on it! If you would get over yourself for a minute and realize that other people have lives too you'd know that."

"Matt, I'm so sorry. You know I didn't mean it that way! I'm really sorry, honey, really! This whole thing is just so messed up."

"Amy, she's better for the part than you are. You're perfect for the part you got. You're going to have to learn to live with this if you want to be a professional, you know that."

"I know, it's just…" She gritted her teeth. "It's Lana Lang."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Pete was trying to concentrate on his history homework, but he couldn't get Lana's words out of his head. _Pete, I think you're a great guy!_ And the smile on her face…God, she was beautiful. And he could have _sworn_ she was flirting with him after rehearsal. But Lana Lang was completely off-limits. He knew that, Clark knew that, every guy in school knew that. He wouldn't live to perform in the musical if Whitney found out Pete was putting the moves on Lana. Although, he realized, they weren't exactly on good terms at the moment. 

_This could be your chance, man!_ his brain told him. _Lana Lang is gorgeous, available, and definitely into you! You'd be a fool not to go for it_.

Except for one thing.

Clark was his best friend.


	4. The Talon

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lana, it's Pete."

"Oh, hi, Pete!"

"Would you like to get together today and run lines? I mean, if you're not busy."

"I'm working at the Talon until four…why don't you meet me there?"

"Sure!" Pete replied enthusiastically. "I can't wait. Thanks, Lana."

She giggled. "I can't wait either. I just love this!"

"Yeah, me too," he replied. "I guess I'd better let you go."

"I'm glad you called. I'll see you later!"

"Yeah, see ya later," Pete replied, grinning ear to ear. _She's glad I called. Definitely a good sign._

Pete couldn't wait until four o'clock.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Lana, you're amazing. You've got _all_ your lines down already! Man, you're gonna make the rest of us look like slackers."

"I'm just so excited about it," she replied, smiling demurely. "I mean, I really want to do well in the show. I guess I'm still a little surprised that I got the part."

"Lana, you got the part because you deserved it. You're the best person for it! Don't let Amy get you down. She's just jealous."

"She has more experience than I do, though. Maybe she really _should_ have gotten it."

Pete looked Lana straight in the eye and took her hand. "Lana, don't put yourself down. You're an amazing actress, you're beautiful, and you're nicer than Amy Hoffman will _ever_ be."

Lana looked down. "You really mean that?"

"Every word! You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life and you're not at all stuck up about it. You're sweet, caring, honest, loyal, and you sing like an angel." Pete smiled. "Lana, you're incredible."

"Pete, I…I never knew you felt that way about me," Lana stammered. "I mean, I've seen you with just about every girl in school…you never even looked my way before."

"Well, Lana, you've been pretty much off-limits."

She smiled ruefully. "I guess you're right," she admitted. "I've been with Whitney so long that I can hardly imagine my life without him. But we've just grown apart lately, I guess. We're in different places now…he's so busy with his dad and the store, and now I'm the lead in the school musical. I feel like we don't have anything in common anymore."

Pete nodded. "It sounds like it's time for a change. You need someone you can really relate to--someone who will be there for you, and with you, no matter what." He smiled.

"Pete, are you…are you asking me out?"

"I'm offering to be there for you, and with you, no matter what."

Lana's face lit up with a dazzling smile. "I accept your offer." She leaned over and softly kissed his lips. 

Pete slid his chair next to hers and kissed her again, more passionately. He slipped his arm around her neck and pulled her close, relishing the feel of her silky hair in his hands. Her lips were soft and full, and he could just taste a hint of strawberry lip gloss on them. He never wanted the moment to end.

Especially after Clark walked in.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Clark, wait!"

"Pete, I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend, Clark! I'm sorry! I mean, I know you like her, but things just sort of happened between us."

"Things don't just 'sort of' happen, Pete. You could have any girl in school if you wanted! Why do you have to pick the _one_ girl I like?"

"Clark, man, I didn't mean it to be like this! But I like Lana, and she likes me, and we want to be together! I'm sorry!"

"I can't believe this! I can't believe this! How long have we been friends?"

"Clark, don't do this, man!"

"I didn't do this. You did." Clark turned and walked away. Pete ran to catch up with him. "Listen, man, you _have_ to believe me. I didn't want it to be like this. I know how you feel about her! But she and I have something special!"

Clark said nothing and started walking faster. 

"Clark!" a beautiful voice rang out. He turned to see Lana running after them. "Clark, it's not Pete's fault. I kissed him, not the other way around! It's not his fault! You shouldn't ruin your friendship over this."

Clark sighed. Of all the things he had pictured her begging of him, forgiveness for Pete had never come up. He shook his head. "Lana, I…" He couldn't think of anything to say. He closed his mouth and started walking home. 

Lana and Pete stood on the sidewalk staring after him. Lana shook her head. "Pete, I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he replied dejectedly. "It's between me and him. Don't sweat it."

"Clark's my friend too," said Lana. "And I don't want things to be weird between us."

"I know, but what can we do?" Pete sighed. "I mean, I hope he'll get over it eventually."

"I'm sure he will. You guys have been friends forever," Lana assured him. She squeezed his hand. "He needs some time. Let's just go back inside."

They went and sat at their table in the corner. Pete sighed. "Lana, maybe this isn't the best idea. I mean, if Clark's this pissed, what's Whitney gonna say?"

Lana rolled her eyes. "I don't even care anymore. Pete, I just want this to work out," she said plaintively. "I really like you."

"I really like you too, Lana," Pete replied, putting his arm around her.

"Do you think it's worth it?"

Pete leaned over and gave her a long, passionate kiss, savoring her soft lips. "Does that answer your question?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Clark, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered, but Martha knew better than that. She gazed sympathetically at him, and he gave in. "I saw Pete and Lana making out at the Talon."

"Oh, Clark, I'm sorry," she said, putting her arm around him. "Did you talk to them?"

"Pete said he was sorry, but he's my best friend! I never thought he would do this to me."

"Clark, these things happen."

He shook his head. "I know. It's just…" he trailed off. "I always thought I'd have a chance with her some day."

"I know you did, honey, but who says you won't? It's not unusual for actors in romantic roles to mistake stage love for real love."

"But the musical hasn't even started yet."

Martha sighed. "Clark, some things just aren't meant to be."


	5. Construction

Clark could hardly keep from demolishing the flat he was working on. Even though it had been a week, he still saw Pete kissing Lana every time he closed his eyes. He could barely keep from pounding the nails straight through the wood and into the school's basement. 

"Hey, Clark! Ease up, man," Matt joked, slapping him on the back. "You can't nail the backdrop to the floor." Clark grunted and refocused his attention on the backdrop.

"Hey Kent, when you're done with that, we need some help with the porch," Scott Baxter called. Clark looked up. Scott and another football player were trying to attach the roof to the columns and weren't having much success. Clark handed his hammer to Jack Corgan and went over to help Scott.

"Man, did you see Whitney today? I thought he was gonna explode when he saw Ross and Lana."

Clark gritted his teeth. The last person he ever expected to sympathize with was Whitney Fordman. It almost made him sick. This whole thing was completely screwed up. He pounded the column so hard it nearly cracked.

"Hey, watch it!" Scott warned, a look of surprise etched on his face. "We need this thing to last till March."

"Sorry," Clark muttered. He moved back and let Scott finish nailing down the column. The other guy looked up. "Hey, Corgan's supposed to be building the benches for the train! Clark, mind picking up the slack?"

"No problem." Clark got up and walked out to the hallway where most of the small pieces were being built. He saw the two benches Jack had abandoned--they looked pretty pathetic. He picked up a saw and started taking them apart.

Chloe popped out from the choral room. "God, if I see one more stupid hat I am going to scream! You guys get all the good jobs."

"But none of the good gossip," Clark reminded her. 

"Actually, all I could hear were the guys out here talking about Pete and Lana, so don't tell me there isn't any good dish on these tables," she shot back. "All I'm hearing is what kind of conditioner is best for dry hair. These girls are so...so..."

"Girly?"

"Exactly!' Chloe sighed exasperatedly. "Hand me a hammer. I'm switching teams."

Clark looked at her dubiously. "Chloe, remember wood shop? You glued your hand to the birdhouse."

"That' was ages ago!" she exclaimed defensively. "Come on. At least the nails you guys have out here aren't painted pink and have a purpose other than clacking on tables and scratching other girls' eyes out."

Clark sighed and handed her the aforementioned hammer. "I am not responsible for what havoc you wreak with that thing."

Chloe sat down on the floor beside the bench. "Maybe it's me, but I really don't see the whole Pete-Lana thing going anywhere. I mean, Pete's relationships only last for five or ten minutes, and Lana--she's been vacuum-sealed to Whitney for as long as any of us can remember." 

Clark gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Chloe wasn't exactly known for her incredible tact. "You didn't see them at the Talon last Saturday."

"Clark, it's one of those weird actor flings. Like Tom Cruise and Penelope Cruz. Simulated love gets mistaken for the real thing."

"This was the real thing, Chloe. I could see it in his eyes. He really cares about her."

"Clark, I know how you feel about Lana. So does the rest of the school. I know it's rough when the girl you like doesn't like you back, and it's even worse when she likes your best friend. But they're happy, and if you're truly a friend to both of them then you'll be happy for them." She stood up. "Pete and Lana were both lucky enough to realize that the perfect person for them was right under their nose. Maybe someday you'll be that lucky too." She turned and walked back to the choral room.

Clark, confused, stared after her.

~*~*~*~*~*~


	6. Harbinger

Lana and Pete sat in the back of the auditorium while Mrs. Hawthorn rehearsed "The Wells Fargo Wagon" with the general chorus. Pete had his arm around her shoulders and she nestled her head on his shoulder. She loved being with Pete. She just seemed to "fit" with him, more than she ever had with Whitney. She was free of the expectations that came with a (former) cheerleader dating the quarterback of the football team. She felt like she could finally be herself. She wasn't the fairy princess anymore. Now she was just Lana Lang, star of the school musical and girlfriend of Pete Ross. It just seemed to fit her better than the pom-poms and the letter jacket. She smiled. She knew she should have been doing her homework, but she just loved the feeling of Pete's strong arms enveloping her, protecting her. 

Amy Hoffman was sitting three rows in front of them with her calculus book. She hadn't been quite as vicious lately, and Lana suspected that Pete's near-constant presence had influenced that considerably. He was a subtle force, but a strong one, and Amy must have known it. She still gave Lana the occasional dirty look, but she kept her distance from Lana physically. That made Lana feel a little better, but she still wondered what was going on in Amy's mind. She was fairly sure Amy wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.

Matt Morley emerged from backstage and went down to sit with Amy. She grinned and 

gave him a big hug. Matt was the second-string quarterback and had quite a bit on Pete in both height and weight, and Amy was making sure Pete knew it. 

"Those two have got to be up to something," Pete whispered in Lana's ear. "And I don't think I wanna know what it is."

"Me either," Lana replied nervously. "Pete, she actually scares me."

"Believe me, I'd never let anything happen to you," Pete promised gravely. He looked into her wide, innocent eyes. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you, I swear. I couldn't stand to see you hurt." He brushed his thick lips against her soft, supple ones for a quick, chaste kiss. "Sealed with a kiss," he whispered, grinning. 

"Oh, get a room, you two," hissed Amy, soft enough for only Pete and Lana to hear. Her eyes glittered with malice. "You know, if you spent half as much time rehearsing as you do making out, you might actually be able to out-act the scenery."

Pete started to say something, but Lana squeezed his hand, silencing him. "Don't do it," she whispered. "Don't sink to her level."

"Oh, my level isn't one you sink to," Amy shot back. "It's one that Ross here would need stilts to approach."

Pete's nostrils flared, and Lana knew he was close to losing control. "Come on, let's go get some air," Lana said loudly. She stood up and pulled Pete out of his seat and out the auditorium door.

Amy sat back in her seat and laughed. They'd been together a week and already Lana had him as whipped as the cream on the cappuccinos she served at the Talon. Pete was so easy to rile that it took all the fun out of it--all she had to do was make a crack about his height. It was Lana--sweet as spun sugar, china-doll-perfect Lana--who would be the tougher nut to crack. She was so non-confrontational she made Mother Teresa look like Attila the Hun. It would take a while to really get to her, but Amy had all the time in the world. After all, it wasn't like she had many lines to learn or anything.


	7. Close Call

"Hey, we're still missing a whole scene's worth of props out here! Let's get it together!" yelled Melissa, rushing across the back of the stage with her clipboard. "Chloe, go up and see if someone mixed up the boxes."

Chloe climbed the rickety staircase up to the loft where the costumes and set furniture were stored. Beside a box of hats was the carton of glass vases and plastic flowers that Melissa needed. As she leaned down to pick it up, she could hear voices coming from inside the light cage directly below her.

"You got the stuff?"

"The chemistry closet was a mess, but yeah, I got what you wanted. Dude, are you sure about this? I mean, if you fuck this up you could be in some serious shit. People could get hurt."

"Don't worry about it; I got it. It's all under control."

"Better be."

"Shut up."

Chloe exhaled quietly, not even realizing that she had been holding her breath. She picked up the carton quietly and made her way down the stairs. Melissa was glaring impatiently at her. "Give me that. God, could you move any slower?"

Chloe opened her mouth, but Melissa was already gone. She let out an exasperated sigh. It was the first rehearsal with the full set, and the crews were scrambling to get everything "just right." She looked around for Clark, but she didn't see him. She ducked behind the backstage curtain and found him tightening up the bolts on the porch door hinges. 

"Clark, something's going on. I heard two guys talking about stealing stuff from the chemistry classroom. It could just be a practical joke, but around here...just try and keep an eye on Matt and Amy. They've got to be behind this."

Clark looked through the wall of the light cage. He could see Matt filling little black containers with some sort of powder. The fireworks scene! his mind screamed. 

"It's for the Fourth of July scene," he explained in a rush to Chloe. "There's supposed to be a fireworks effect. Matt must be rigging it somehow." He looked back over at the light cage. "I'll go check it out."

Chloe grabbed his arm. "Clark, be careful," she pleaded, genuine concern in her eyes. 

He smiled reassuringly at her. "Chloe, it's fine. I mean, how smart do you think they are?" he joked, trying to make her smile.

"That's the problem!" she exclaimed. "One of their bonehead mistakes could end up hurting someone! I don't want it to be one of my friends."

"Neither do I," he replied. He turned and walked across the stage.

Chloe sighed. Clark Kent, saving the world one raven-haired beauty at a time, she thought bitterly. She knew that when it came to protecting Lana, Clark would gladly throw himself in front of a bullet for her. For a moment she let her mind wander into a fantasy in which she was the gorgeous leading lady that Clark was running off to save and Lana was stuck backstage arranging fake flowers. She shook her head, mentally slapping herself. Forget it. Never gonna happen.

Clark walked over to the left wing of the stage. Behind the curtain Matt was helping Jack set up the faux fireworks. They had placed five blasting caps--four small, one large--on an anvil. The small caps would provide the sound effects while the large one would provide a short burst of black smoke. It was a subtle effect, and would take perfect timing and coordination to successfully perform. Jack, unfortunately, was capable of neither one.

Clark sidled up to Matt. "Uh, Matt? You sure you want Jack in charge of this?" he whispered.

Matt looked at him. "You volunteering?"

Clark shrugged. "Guess so."

"Ever worked with this stuff before?"

"How hard can it be? All I have to do is smack them with a hammer, right?"

"Right. You just gotta have the timing down perfect."

"I can handle it. If I were you, I'd be afraid that Jack would demolish his own fingers instead of the caps."

Matt snorted. "You got a point there." He turned. "Hey, Jack, why don't you see if the guys up in the loft need any help." He tossed him a key, and Jack sped off in the direction of the ladder.

Amy ran onstage, glaring at Clark. "I need the reporter girl," she barked. "Where is she?"

"Um, I don't know," Clark stammered. "I saw her over by the porch before."

Amy turned, her curly hair whipping around and hitting Clark in the face. He coughed and glanced over at Matt. He wanted desperately to ask how Matt could put up with her, but he kept his mouth shut. No sense alienating a guy he still had a whole month to work closely with.

Amy stormed over to the porch and grabbed Chloe's jacket, dragging her offstage. She threw open a door and pushed Chloe roughly into the hallway. "Stay out of this, you nosy little bitch," she hissed. "This is between me and Little Orphan Annie." She stalked away before a stupefied Chloe could utter a word. 

"Damn," Chloe whispered to herself. She tried to get back onstage, but the door had locked. She walked around to the other side of the stage, passing Lana and Pete making out in a corner on the way. She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

She found Clark sitting in the wings with Matt. "Hey, Clark, can I talk to you?" she asked lightly, trying to keep her voice neutral. Clark got up and followed her out into the hallway.

"Amy is giving off some major Joan Crawford vibes. She just shoved me out into the hallway and told me off, and then she threatened Lana." Clark's eyes widened, and Chloe knew she wouldn't have his attention much longer. "That girl has some serious issues."

"What did she say about Lana?" The concern was written all over his face, and Chloe wished he wouldn't wear his heart so plainly on his sleeve. 

"Nothing specific. I mean, I was the one she called a nosy little bitch."

Clark was taken aback. "That's awful!" He stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder. "You know that's not true, right?"

"Of course," she answered. "Just keep an eye out for her and her henchman. This thing's getting out of hand."

Clark nodded. He headed back to the wings, while Chloe slipped back into the storage room. Matt had left the wings and was helping Scott put a new plank on the small staircase that sat behind the main flat. Clark knelt down next to the anvil and inspected the blasting caps. Matt had known what he was doing; the caps didn't appear to have been tampered with at all. 

"Ten minutes to Act I!" an impatient voice called out. "I want actors at the stage doors and crew to get their act together NOW!"

The stage was abuzz as crew members rushed to their respective places. Clark, Scott, and Matt crouched down next to the light cage. Clark looked over and saw Chloe hanging around the stairs to the loft. He caught her eye and smiled at her. She smiled sweetly back. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lana was finding it hard to concentrate on her lines. Pete looked so gorgeous in his black sweater and chinos, and he was so charming as the debonair con man Harold Hill. She fought to keep in character as he swept around the stage proclaiming that they "got trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool." She couldn't wait for Act II when she would finally get to do her scenes with him. 

As Lana stood silently on stage right she couldn't help but see the satisfied smirk on Amy's face. Lana's excitement faded. She knew Amy had to be up to something--she wasn't shooting death glances at Lana. She tried not to think about it. She watched Pete strut around the stage and grinned. 

The scene change came and Lana, Carly, and Shawna moved to stage left for the piano lesson. Lana shut her suspicions about Amy out of her mind and concentrated only on the scene, which went smoothly. She sang her "Goodnight, My Someone" solo, which ended the act. She slipped quickly offstage to steal a kiss from Pete. "You were fantastic," he whispered. "Absolutely perfect."

The beginning of Act II was the Fourth of July scene. Clark sat nervously next to the anvil. He had no idea what Matt had rigged the caps with, but he desperately hoped he could protect Lana and everyone else from whatever it was. He would just have to hope that no one else backstage was paying attention to him if he had to use his powers.

He became more and more tense as the moment drew nearer. Finally he heard his cue. He pounded the first four caps in quick succession and then, holding his breath, he tapped the last one. He saw a blindingly white flash and quickly slammed his hand down atop the flames before they could spread to the nearby curtain. He coughed at the bitter smoke. Fortunately, the smoke was clearing quickly and seemed to be confined to the backstage area. He gagged--that smoke was some awful stuff. Chloe had known what she was talking about.

Matt rushed through the side door. "Hey, what happened? You get a dud or something? The last one didn't go off!"

Clark glared up at him and stood up. "Yeah, you better check it out. Wouldn't want that to happen again." He turned and left the stage in a hurry. He threw open the storage room door and grabbed Chloe's arm. "Everything's fine," he assured her.

She looked at him with wide, not-quite-trusting eyes. "You sure you're okay?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm fine. It wasn't anything serious."

"Yet," she reminded him. "Opening night's still a month away. They're just warming up."

Clark leaned against the wall of the light cage, watching Pete jumping around on the library tables, desperately trying to get Lana/Marian's attention. Onstage they looked great together; he couldn't deny that. He just didn't think of them that way in real life. Pete was his best friend, but he just couldn't figure out what Lana could see in him. Not to mention the fact that Pete had never stayed with the same girl this long in his life. 

He began to imagine himself at center stage, taking Lana's hand and leading her to the middle of their carefully constructed and beautifully painted bridge. Looking deep into her eyes, running his fingers through her silky black hair, as she sang just for him the words he longed to hear...

There was love all around

But I never heard it singing

No I never heard it at all

Till there was you...

He was jolted rudely out of his reverie when Scott smacked him on the shoulder. "Get moving, we got three minutes to clear this and get the porch back out!" Clark rushed behind the main flat and picked up one edge, turning it so that the house backdrop was facing out. Matt shoved the staircase into place and they darted back behind the curtains.

Lana took her place in front of the porch. Brushing a stray lock of hair off her face, she began to sing the wistful lyrics of "My White Knight." Clark felt a pang of jealousy. How many times had he been her knight in shining armor, rescuing her from danger? And she never noticed. Never realized how close she had come to dying. He wondered what would happen if Pete found out how many times he had come *this* close to losing Lana, if not for Clark's heroics. Clark sighed and wished that just for once, he could be onstage instead of in the background.


End file.
